Some years ago, I was working my way through the application process for a police department. Part of the process was to submit to a polygraph ("lie detector") test. Anyone who has done this can tell you that it is a nerve-wracking thing, even if you have nothing to hide. There is the fear of a response being read as a false positive, i.e., it says you are lying when you are not. After I was done, the examiner unexpectedly told me that I had done OK (They normally aren't supposed to tell you anything about how the test was read). I asked him, "In your experience, why would I be so nervous about taking this test when I have nothing to hide?" He said, "It's the fear of the unknown."
Fear of the unknown. It's a strange force, even for those of us who consider ourselves well-adjusted and remarkably sane. We envision scenarios, wildly implausible, yet we take that .00001% chance of occurrence and rework the decimal point and the zeros so that it is plausible enough that we should spend long hours worrying about it.
We long to know the future. We covet the ability to read others thoughts and feelings. We wish for abilities beyond our reach. All of this we do out of our fear of the unknown.
We can't escape the unknown. Until we achieve omniscience, the unknown will continue to surround us. We hold the candle of our knowledge high above our head, yet it only casts its light in a small circle, creating a much larger area of darkness outside, a darkness stretching to infinity.
If this is true, then our fear of the unknown is very irrational. We can't know everything, so why be fearful? Frankly, I believe that God's generosity extends even to this. Some day, we'll see and fully understand that our limits were to protect us, sort of like a play-pen, creating limits and keeping those things that would harm us at a safe distance.
Thank you, Lord, for that play-pen.
